


Fleeting touch

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, I don't use y/n because it always takes me out ofthe story, LMAO, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Self-Indulgent, but he sure does fuck good, drunk author, literally none of this is plot, lol story? what story., not nothing read, not proof read, quentin beck and reader fuck and no one knows the circumstances leading up to it, quentin beck is not a good man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 04:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Quentin Beck takes a moment to enjoy the company of a fellow conspirator.ORAuthor can't handle the Mysterio thirst and tries to cope by channeling it into fanfic.





	Fleeting touch

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy, ya nasties.  
I know I did.

Your moans were heard loud over the creaking of the bed. The room was dark, save for a dim lamp on the other side of the room, casting your bodies in flickering white light. A particularly hard thrust tore a pained moan from your lips, breaking the constant litany of "please, oh god yes yes yesss" from your lips. Your knees buckled a bit.  
Quentin stilled for a moment, to let you gain back your composure. Sure hands on your hips squeezed, thumbs lightly stroking the heated skin, touch soothing, calming.  
You took a deep breath, then nodded to show you were ready again. This time, Beck drew upwards to get a better angle. He took one hand away from your hips to stroke at your back, leaving gentle circles there, tingling down your spine. You sighed and pushed back against his hips. In response, the fingers on your back dragged againstyour spine just a bit harsher, leaving faint scratch marks on their way down.  
Beck gripped your hips with both hands again, and rocked into you, this time slow, steady, deep. You can't help the sob that leaves your lips again.  
"Please... I can't-" you whine.  


"What's that, darling?" he croons. "What is it you want?" You can't see his expression, with your head burried in the covers, drooling, but you know that there's a smug smile plastered all over his face. A faint shiver runs down your spine.  


"I want.." you start, trailing off when another roll of his hips derails your thoughts. "I- please."  


He's positively radiating self-satisfaction. You want to slap that smug look off his face, but god, his dick feels amazing burried in you. These little encounters of yours are infuriating, and terribly inconvenient, but who are you to complain when Quentin fucks you into the matress like that? His grip tightens on your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and you moan his name.  


"You sound divine, sweetheart," he whispers, " but I believe you were trying to say something?"  


He emphasises his statement with another roll of his hips, his grip on you pushing your body roughly against him.  
"Quentin, please-" you gasp. "Just... ah, just please- fuck me- ah!" You gasp as he drives harder into you at each plea and his rhythm picks up.

He leans over your body, pressing down, his mouth to your ear. You hear every groan escaping his lips, every syllable of praise.  
"Oh fuck, you're so tight, ah- you're-"  
He burries his mouth in your neck, and sucks. The heat pooling between your legs shoots up at that and you clench around his cock. He moans in response, sending shivers down your skin from your throat.  


Beck licks a long hot stripe from your shoulder up to your ear, then nips at the earlobe. You gasp, then let out a desperate, keening sound, when he bites down on the juncture between your shoulder and neck, and speeds up his thrusts. The speed becomes frantic, almost, and you can't help but whine and beg, curses spilling from your lips just as readily as desperate pleas. The bite slackens, only for Beck to let out a pleased laugh. You can feel the sound vibrating from the way his chest is pressed so closely to your back. The sound runs through your body and spikes your need even further.

The crushing grip on your hips loosens up, and then Beck is snaking one arm around your middle and heaving you up, fucking up into your heat with a dizzying precision. The other hand reacher up to squeeze your breast, the grip just edging between pain and pleasure. You've long given up on stopping the pleas rushing out of your throat. You're vaguely aware of a hoarse, broken voice whining "ah, yes, right there, oh god oh god yes please- fuck! I need- ah!"

Every time his name rolls off your tongue, a laugh rumbles through him into your body, driving you wild. You're so close, you can't focus on anything except his lenght, burrying itself inside of you, over and over, driving in just the right spot each time. It's maddening. A thumb grazes over your nipple, once, twice. A sob rings through the dimly lit room, sounding alien to your ears.  


"Sweetling," Beck murmurs into your ear, "you're so good, so tight and perfect for me."  


The hand on your breast raises up and then it's digging its fingers into your hair, and tugging.  
"So gorgeous."  
His hips stutter for a moment, and he presses his body flush against yours.  


"What do you need?" he hisses. "Tell me sweetheart." He mouths at your necks again, then sucks hard.  


"You- I need you. Quentin... please-" you choke out a sob. "I need your cock... please... fuck me!"  


He shudders behind you, tightening the grip around your midsection, sure to leave bruises in the morning after. He drives his hips forward again. His thrust pick up speed, turning erratic. The room fills with a cacophony of moans and obscene noises of flesh meeting flesh. The bedframe rocks and groans under your ministrations, taking the abuse considerably well even as the metal shakes with each thrust.  
Beck sucks marks into the crook of your neck. His hips stutter, and a broken moan escapes his lips as he spills inside of you.  
You groan as the mass of him collapses onto you, pushing you into the bedding. Both your bodies are slick with sweat. You feel warm come trickling from your entrance down your thighs. You both lay there for a few precious moments, basking in the aftergrow, breathing in each others' scent, him still burried deep inside you. But then the spell lifts, he pulls out, and the sudden emptiness is more jarring than you'd thought. Quentin rises up from the bed, leaving you laying there, soaked in the smell of sweat and sex, dripping onto the sheets, and walks away without a single word.  


You curl both arms around yourself, wrapped in blankets, and you sob quietly. Your voice, hoarse and broken, rings around the now cold, empty room. You press your legs together tightly.  
It doesn't help.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written while drunk, so please excuse any typos. Or any errors, really. Author is fully responsible for horny material, but really, who can blame her? Jake Gyllenhaal is the one at fault here. Who wouldn't want to get rawed by that beautiful beautiful man...


End file.
